Jingle Bells
by Deb3
Summary: The team is faced with a Christmas case in which their only witness, a 6-year-old child, assigns a very odd identity to the killer.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Jingle Bells

Rating: T

Pairing: H/C.

Disclaimer: If they were mine, I would still be watching the show. They aren't, and I'm not.

A/N: This is the first part of a Christmas fic, albeit a slightly late one. Didn't have time to write it down before Christmas. This is completely unrelated to my Fearful Symmetry series, just something that grabbed my muse, actually from a line towards the end of it, and built backwards from there. I really had thought of this one as a longish one-parter, but I decided to break it up a bit instead. Things always seem shorter somehow in my mind than they become written down, and shorter chapters are also easier in terms of the schedule and my hands.

So here's Jingle Bells, part one. After this one is over, and it isn't too long, we will get down to Wildfire, which is the next Fearful Symmetry story, in which Horatio, Calleigh, and Rosalind have the vacation from hell.

(H/C)

Flashing lights reflected up and down the street, the colorful and plain white strings outlining the houses in the quiet residential neighborhood and their sick parody, the swirling red and blue of squad cars. Calleigh paused for a minute exiting the Hummer to consider the double-edged sword of this holiday setting. It might fit her childhood, a study in special occasions turned to disasters, but it seemed out of place on this quiet street. Here, children should be eagerly looking forward to the gifts. Here, parents should be focused on the children instead of cat fights with each other or solace in a bottle. Here, the houses truly looked like homes.

"Earth to Calleigh." She jumped at Eric's voice at her shoulder. "You okay?"

"Just thinking." Her short nod encompassed the whole scene. "Happy holidays."

Eric's quick grin faded. "Yeah, poor people. Looks like a robbery gone wrong. At least that's what the responding officer thought."

Calleigh tossed her hair and her memories back behind her. "Let's go find out." She gripped her field kid and headed for the house with Eric a half step behind her.

Horatio stood just inside the doorway, perfectly still, absorbing the room. He didn't turn, but he recognized her footsteps, obviously. She could tell from his tone that he knew whom he was addressing. "It does look like an interrupted robbery."

"Maybe too much like one?" She effortlessly picked up the thought, like the handing off of a baton in a race. They worked so well together. It should have been enough for her. It wasn't.

He did turn then, rewarding her with a brief smile. It was sincere, but all his smiles for anyone were brief these days, it seemed. "Precisely. Let's get to work." He walked forward into his house, and his movement released the rest of the team. They fanned out, a well-choreographed unit, several parts working flawlessly toward one goal. Justice.

Horatio stopped in front of the man's body. The victim lay on the floor at an awkward angle, obviously dead where he had fallen, the whole side of his skull indented from the force of the fatal blow. "What have we got, Alexx?" he asked.

The ME looked up at him. "One blow, severe depressed skull fracture. He was probably dead before he hit the carpet. It took some kind of strength to do that, Horatio."

"Any ideas on weapon?"

She looked around. The drawers of the desk were pulled out and dumped in the floor; the presents beneath the tree had been stripped of their gaudy trappings and contents strewn around the room. "Some kind of blunt object, something like a baseball bat. I don't see one around, but he could have found one in the gifts and taken it away with him."

"What will be interesting," Horatio said, "is to get the wife's story. The paramedics thought she would survive."

Alexx shook her head. "That's two bad cases just on one night." The first-shift team had been called back on this one since the evening team was already processing a multiple homicide. "What ever happened to peace on earth?"

Horatio's lips gave a humorless quirk. "It doesn't pay enough." He walked over to survey the ruined Christmas tree. "So from what we have preliminarily, the husband came home about two hours ago, possibly interrupted a burglar, and then the wife came home an hour ago and did the same." He shook his head.

"The timetable doesn't fit," Calleigh said across the room. "No burglar sticks around that long, especially after killing somebody when he got interrupted the first time. How sure are we on the time the wife got home?"

"Positive," Horatio replied. "The neighbor across the street was watching for her, because she had a present she wanted to bring over tonight. She noted the wife coming home, finished the sitcom she was watching, then came over, found the place turned upside down, him dead, her hurt, and called 911."

Calleigh was examining the desk. "There ought to be plenty of places for prints here. I don't know, Horatio, the presents look just like setting up a scene, but I think he really was looking for something in the desk."

He was at her shoulder instantly. "Why's that?"

"Notice how every drawer is pulled all the way out, completely removed. Every one, not just a couple, not just opened. I'll bet we'll find fingerprints inside the desk frame toward the back, too. He was looking for something that might be hidden behind them." She was working even as she spoke, getting out her equipment.

"Nice work." The approval in his voice sent a warm charge through her.

"Thank you; I try." She felt his intensity refocus, and she looked away from the inside of the desk to study his face. "What is it, Horatio?"

"Did you hear that?"

"What?" She got up from the floor in front of the desk, standing next to him, trying to match his position as if that would help her ears catch what his had. "I didn't hear anything."

He turned abruptly, heading for the hall. Calleigh followed, and Eric joined them. "H," he reminded him, "the responding officer searched the house." Horatio's hand was an imperative gesture for silence. Even Alexx had left the body and was behind them now. Calleigh put one hand on her gun, ready if needed. Surely the perp was long gone, though. If he stayed for the police and CSIs, he was even more stupid than if he had stayed for an hour after killing the husband.

Horatio turned into a bedroom, a little girl's bedroom. The son and daughter had both been spending the night with friends, according to the neighbors, which had probably saved their lives, Calleigh thought. But Horatio headed unerringly to the closet, following evidence that only he seemed able to hear just then. He opened the door, and Calleigh's hand tightened on her gun. Nothing was apparent except clothes, toys, and boxes, but Horatio pushed his way in past them.

"Hello there," he said, his voice as calm and soothing as if he had met a friend in the mall instead of a child cowering in the back corner of the closet at a crime scene. "Are you okay?" She stared at him, eyes wide. The other three members of the team pushed up into the closet doorway, and she tensed up even more. Horatio waved them back. He crouched down, bringing himself to roughly eye level. "What's your name?"

"Allie." The answer was almost inaudible.

"Allie. That's a pretty name. I'm Horatio."

Manners unconsciously came to the surface. "Hello, Horatio."

He reached out slowly, touching her arm, giving her time to pull away if she wanted to, but she leaned into the contact slightly . "Why don't you come out of the closet so we can talk more easily, Allie?"

Her eyes, far too large for her face, widened even further. "Is he gone?" Her hand closed over Horatio's, gripping it tightly.

Horatio nodded solemnly. "Nobody is here but us, and we're friends. Did he try to hurt you?"

She shook her head. Her eyes squeezed shut, and a tear welled out and ran down her cheek. Horatio gently wiped it away. She opened her eyes then and looked back at him and at the team trying not to hover too obviously in the doorway. "It was Santa Claus," she said.


	2. Chapter 2

A quick explanation and non timetable here. Sorry for leaving JB hanging, and I know many of you are waiting for Wildfire, but my priorities at the moment are exactly where they need to be, a situation I wish were different myself. We are having a family crisis involving my mother, my lifelong best friend, who has  
Alzheimer's disease and has lived on my farm for two years and let me help her with her money and other things, willingly thus far, about to change. Suffice it to say, she has suddenly taken an extreme jump downwards, complete with distrust and personality changes, and I'm going to be forced into proceeding with legal incompetence procedures over her most strenuous objections. Between this, trying to still work, care for the horses, and sleeping at least a little, that is life at the moment. Writing, actual physical writing down of the stories, has no place in the schedule at all.

I will get JB finished and Wildfire up, but life will have to stop imploding first. They are safe on file mentally and won't go anywhere. It could be months. I simply don't know. I am also, of course, not reading anything by anybody at this point, from sheer lack of time and energy to put to it. I will return when I can. Meanwhile, I am dealing with what I need to right now.

It's possible that I might, from time to time, write down a chapter just as temporary release if I have a few minutes of time and am not too dead. No timetable can be offered on those. When they come, no timetable can be offered on updates.

For those who pray, all prayers are appreciated.

Deb


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Here, after a very long delay, is more of Jingle Bells on the most appropriate day for it. I'll finish it up probably this weekend.

Thanks for all the prayers and well wishes for my family. My mother is now on a locked mental unit, and I am slowly catching up with sleep and work after an incredibly difficult year.

(H/C)

"It was Santa Claus?" Horatio's voice was perfectly calm and soothing even as he asked the question.

Allie nodded. "He was mad." She sniffled. "Daddy was mad, too."

"Why don't you come out now, Allie? No one will hurt you." His sheer magnetism seemed to pull her out of the closet. Watching him, Calleigh again marveled at his connection with children.

Allie climbed out and attached herself like a leech to Horatio, burying herself against his shoulder, hiding her face as if that would make the world go away. His arms wrapped around her securely. He stayed down on a level with her.

"Eric," he said over his shoulder. "Talk to the neighbors. Find a friend. Find somebody."

"She's a witness, H," Eric reminded him.

Horatio turned his head this, his eyes blue lasers. "She is a _child_."

"Right." Eric turned and left the room with alacrity, wondering how anybody could look so compassionate and so dangerous simultaneously. Santa Claus, wherever he was, didn't have a chance.

Calleigh stepped over and touched the girl gently on the shoulder. "Allie?" The child looked up, still clinging to Horatio. "Weren't you spending the night with a friend tonight?"

"She got sick," the girl replied. Then, once again, she said, "He was mad."

Calleigh shivered as old memories gathered around her, and Horatio noticed it. "Allie, did your father ever hurt you?"

Allie shook her head vigorously. "He was busy."

Horatio and Calleigh's eyes met over the girl's head. _He was busy._ Perhaps not actual abuse, but what a condemnation as a summary of a parent.

Alexx suddenly came to attention. "I'm going to go see about something in the other room," she said firmly. "I'll be back in a minute, sweetie." She brushed the girl's hair gently with her hand and then left at a brisk walk. Horatio and Calleigh shared another look. Yes, Alexx was right. The girl certainly did not need to walk out past her father's crumpled and broken body.

"So your father had to pick you up tonight at your friend's, and he was mad about it?" Calleigh picked up the gentle questioning.

Allie nodded. "I want Mom. Is she home yet?"

Horatio tensed up slightly, managing to keep his arms around the girl steady. Calleigh followed the thought easily. The girl didn't know her mother had come home, didn't know she had been hurt. Apparently, the fight between her father and Santa Claus had scared her enough that she had hidden in the closet the entire hour between the attacks and didn't realize the second one. But why would Santa Claus let her live with a whole hour in which to work? Had she seen him without him seeing her? Questions swirled in the air between them.

"What's wrong?" With the uncanny perception of childhood, Allie looked from one of them to the other. "Is something wrong with Mom?" Her voice was rising again, scared even more by that thought than by a fight between her father and Santa Claus.

Horatio tightened his grip on her, but he did not lie. "Your mother has been hurt, Allie, but they think she will be okay."

She crumpled up against him, crying. "Was she in a wreck?" she asked finally.

For the last few minutes, sounds of activity had been heard from the living room, Alexx taking the body out, but now a strange voice was heard, surging up the hall, getting louder. "Allie? Allie! Are you all right, honey?" A woman rushed into the room, and Allie detached from Horatio and ran into her arms.

Horatio stood up again. "Are you a neighbor?"

The woman nodded. "Mrs. Foster. I found them, but oh, Lord, I had no idea . . . she should have been gone. . . what an awful thing." Horatio's warning look stopped the verbal flood, and she hugged the girl tightly. "She's a friend of my daughter's."

"Can you take her over to your house with your daughter? You'll be safe. We'll take care of it."

"I want to see Mom," Allie sobbed, her face buried against Mrs. Foster.

Horatio walked around and spoke, "Allie, look at me." She did, still sniffling. "I promise you, I will take you to see your mother tomorrow. But we can't go tonight. She's been hurt, and she needs to rest. Okay?"

"Promise?"

"Promise." He smiled at her. "Go with Mrs. Foster tonight. All right?"

She nodded and buried herself back against the neighbor's shoulder. Mrs. Foster turned and headed back down the hall, carrying the girl, and Horatio stepped to the bedroom door. "Eric!"

Eric appeared at the end of the hall, then came up it at the slight jerk of Horatio's head. "Eric," Horatio said softly, "get a guard stationed on Mrs. Foster's house. Front and back. Nobody gets in there tonight. Especially not Santa Claus."

"Got it, H." Eric headed back down the hall, and Horatio turned back to Calleigh and tilted his head slightly, inviting her summary of the case so far.

"Her father was expecting to be alone tonight," Calleigh started. "He knew his wife was out shopping, and he was mad that Allie wound up being with him."

"Interesting idea. You think he might have had an appointment with Santa Claus?"

"I can't think of a better disguise at this time of year for someone who didn't want to be recognized. So if the father had been . . .dealing? Something? Maybe he had set up a meeting with one of his accomplices."

"Nice." His approval sent warm fingers down her spine. "That could also explain why Santa Claus stayed around for that hour. He and the father had a fight, and after he killed him, he was looking for something tied to their criminal activities. But then the mother came in , and that's when he bolted. He couldn't have known the girl was here."

"She must have seen him, though. Maybe she was in her room, started to come out, and caught a glimpse at the end of the hall. The fight scared her, and she hid. She must not have heard her mother come in later." Calleigh shook her head. "And here having Santa Claus in your house on Christmas Eve is supposed to be a good thing." There was a very slight echo of bitterness in her tone, as she remembered one Christmas that her father did dress up as Santa Claus - and passed out drunk under the tree.

Horatio clearly caught the shift from present to past, but he had too much respect for her personal space to push on it. Besides, this wasn't the time. "Let's go finish processing that living room," he said. He started out the bedroom door, and Calleigh smiled, her first real smile of the evening. Even if he couldn't be more, he was still the truest and most perceptive friend she had ever known.

As she started to follow him back to the crime scene, her mind abruptly jumped from appreciation of him to her not-quite-finished shopping. She was totally stuck on one gift, because nothing had seemed good enough. "What do you want for Christmas, Horatio?" He stopped in the doorway, startled. "Seriously. What is the thing that you want most for yourself for Christmas?"

He hesitated so long that she wondered if she unknowingly had crossed some invisible no-trespassing sign herself. Finally, he spoke, his voice all but inaudible. "Courage," he said, and then he was once more Lieutenant Horatio Caine on the job at a murder investigation. They walked to the living room in silence.


End file.
